


Forest Watchman

by wingedcat13



Series: LoD Kiddo Meta [1]
Category: The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Enter William, Multi, The Kiddos Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 15:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13550031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcat13/pseuds/wingedcat13
Summary: The residents of a small town on the edge of the Evermoors discuss a protector. William Miellour, son of Drizzt Do'Urden, laughs himself silly. Part of the LoD Kiddo Meta series.





	Forest Watchman

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, please see the preface of this series for more on this character and where he fits in canon.

          There is a stretch of woods in the North known as the Traveler's forest. South of the true forests, of Lurkwood or the Glimmerwood, but in the North just the same. There are rules about this forest, of course, and the locals know them well. A few well-meaning folk have put up signs with the forest's rules for the long distance travelers - do not linger, do not hunt, and if you find yourself short of food, leave out a bag on a tree one night when you go to sleep. Leave a few offerings, perhaps, for the forest.

Do so, and you will pass unharmed by anything.

         The weather will not pass you by, of course, but you will find a prepared shelter, seemingly left behind by a previous caravan, at just the right time to escape the worst of it. Any ailments that have stricken your animals will heal as they pass through. There will be no bandit attacks, no raids. The only danger is yourselves.

         And those who do not follow the rules of the forest? It depends on their crime. If it is minor, you will find carts in sudden disrepair, your stores perhaps raided by something small. Your horses will be fine, but their harnesses will fray and snap, and if you have been wicked to them, they will flee. Tents collapse in the middle of the night, bridges become more treacherous. Some think these are forest spirits. The locals do not dissuade them.

         There are no elves in this forest, it is not large enough for a community of that size. Simply long, and stretched around the edge of the Evermoors. Those who survive the worst of travel in the forest - be it the worst of circumstances or wrath they bring upon themselves - say they've seen what waits in that forest. Some say a man, others believe it to be a woman. All place the figure on a sturdy, spotted horse.

         "Thought it was a cow a' first" a man mumbles into his drink, more than to the people around him. "And he kept 'is face hidden, so don't be askin me about that."

         The figure will take the reins and guide you to safety, pull you back from the brink of death, or give you the scare of your life, depending. And if you've passed through peacefully, leaving your offering on a hook on a tree at the other side, you might glance back and see the man and horse, collecting and watching you go.

"He's the forest watchman." One of the crowd whispers

           "Glad he was watching me then. Otherwise I'd a slipped over a cliff, and have washed up in this here river" the man seems to still be lost in memory, of a slippery road, of too much haste and not enough caution. He'd thought himself done for, gone, a fool who lost to nature because he didn't know when to quit.

Then an arm had caught him from falling.

           "Is it the dark elf?" One of the townsfolk crept forward to ask, now looking nervously at him. They'd heard of the heroic dark elf, of course, but didn't know why he was in their woods. He seemed to attract trouble without trying, that one, but so much good had come of a presence that they weren't sure what to think.

           "Nah" the man doesn't seem to notice he's crushing a whole stream of the rumors. The overflow bubbles up in the conversation around him, but he's lost again in the froth of his drink.

           "What'd he look like?" The whisper could have been any and all of those gathered around.

           "Told ya, I didn't see his face" Or most of it, anyway. He'd seen the eyes, strands of hair plastered to the forehead of his savior. The rest had been hidden by a protectively wrapped scarf. Hadn't seen the ears under the hood, hadn't cared. All that had mattered was the concern and determination written clear as day.

Though he did recall one other thing. "E's spotted."

A confused member of the audience: "the horse?"

The man was already nodding to himself "hm? Yeah, that one too."

"Too?" A few voices echo. The villagers look about at each other.

           On the other side of the bar, in a corner booth, a farmer looks across the table at one of his good friends and shakes his head, pauses, and shakes it more intently. "Come on you" he says, still shaking his head, as he takes his friend by the hand and pulls both of them out of the bar, pretending not to notice the way William's vibrating with barely contained laughter.


End file.
